By Every Remove I Only Drag A

Trade's Proud Empire Hastes To Swift Decay.

Philosophy ... Should Not Pretend To Increase Our Present Stock, But Make Us Economists Of What We Are Possessed Of.

What If In Scotland's Wilds We Viel'd Our Head, Where Tempests Whistle Round The Sordid Bed; Where The Rug's Two-fold Use We Might Display, By Night A Blanket, And A Plaid By Day.

Alike All Ages. Dames Of Ancient Days Have Led Their Children Through The Mirthful Maze, And The Gay Grandsire, Skill'd In Gestic Lore, Has Frisk'd Beneath The Burden Of Threescore.

When A Person Has No Need To Borrow They Find Multitudes Willing To Lend.